Prison
by KeepCounting
Summary: 'It's never been an option for me not to worry about you.' Edward has a request to make. Winry isn't sure how to respond. 'Could you at least promise not to hit me with the wrench'. Pre-Winry/Edward


_I was cleaning out in my documents, and found this little bugger luring around. It's at least two years old and I was actually surprised at how decent it was, considering how much I sucked back then (see, this is just the way I am: I write something, and a month later I think it's the dumbest thing. Maybe that's why I stink at writing longer stories). Anyway, I edited it a little, corrected some mistakes (but don't expect something good, my grammar can still make Hitler weep) and decided to post it.  
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**Prison**

When you throw someone in jail, it is either because you wish to get rid of them or because you need to keep them in one place.

That however, was only the physical meaning of the word 'prisoner'.

Winry was a prisoner.

Not in the physical sense. But definitely in the mental.

Musing over it, she guessed that she probably had for some time. Maybe it had already started when they had been kids, running around playing, just the three of them. It had come as natural as breathing, their friendship. Nothing could come in between them.

At least, that was what she had thought. But then things had happened.

It was a little silly. When you where a child, you expected nothing to change. You didn't think people would leave you.

First her parents. The pain was still raw, still as fresh as the day she had gotten the news. She had just gotten better at hiding the agony and hiding the truth. She wasn't sure if that meant she was strong or just plain stupid. Hiding emotions couldn't really be a healthy thing.

But everything, the agony, the hurt, the sleepless night, they all became better when she knew they were there. Her best friends. At the time, she didn't even think about the fact that her dreams always ended with _him_. Always ended with him swooping in and saving her, holding her close and never turning his back on her, ever.

And then everything had happened so quickly, faster than she could comprehend. Suddenly, she was in Rush Valley, improving her automail work, while he and his brother were out there, risking their life in the middle of a goose-chase.

She still had nightmares, but more often than not, it was nightmares about them, about _his_ golden eyes, wide and lifeless, blood on his face. About his back, turning away from her, walking away and never coming back.

She knew she couldn't stand it if he, if they, didn't come back. So she did her best to help them, constantly working on new designs to his automail, ways to make it better, lighter, faster for him to use. She would not be a bystander, one of those who could only watch while their loved ones died. She would never be that girl again.

Winry refused to be helpless.

But still, he wasn't helping her in particular when he always came back, a sheepish smile on his face, and a wrecked automail arm dangling at his side.

Stupid, stubborn alchemist.

How could someone who got in so much trouble be considered a genius? Winry sighed as she bent over her work. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head.

"Winry?" He asked, his voice surprisingly soft. It made butterflies fly from the pit of her stomach, all the way up to her chest where they started fluttering around. It was a weird sensation, like a waterfall going upwards instead of down.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice surprisingly light and not betraying any of her inner emotions. She could hear him breathe a little uneasily, and she had to fight the urge to look up and drown in those endless ponds of gold.

"If I ever…" He trailed off, as if afraid to say it. She stole a quick glance at him, surprised to see him looking even more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him before. She stopped short, the screw in her hand gently falling back onto the table. She wasn't able to look away; she was captured by the look in his eyes. It was as if the gold had become darker, something she had only seen when he had been in pain or really afraid. He cleared his throat, glancing away, and the near-trance she had been in broke. She quickly picked up the screw again, looking intently at the metal in front of her.

"Just go ahead." She said. "You know you can tell me anything."

He chuckled slightly, his tone still dark, but amusement was definitely creeping through.

"If I say it, do you promise not to hit me?"

Winry frowned, contemplating the situation. If he thought it was bad enough that she might hit him, she probably couldn't control her temper enough, even if she promised. Damn him, but no other person could infuriate her as much as he could. Maybe it came with the package deal; her emotions where always at their highest peak when he was involved.

She flashed him a brief grin, hoping that the dread wouldn't show. She could hardly imagine what kind of news he could have.

"Sorry, can't promise you that." She said. He sighed, and she was surprised and happy to hear that he sounded more like himself when he did it.

"Well, could you at least not use the wrench?" He whined and she had to bite her lip, to keep herself from laughing.

"Alright." She said. "I promise I won't throw a wrench at your head. _This time_."

He sighed again, more annoyed now. She continued working, patiently waiting for him to speak. An odd silence settled between them, and her thoughts began wandering. Was it really so bad that he dreaded telling her? Yeah allright, he might be afraid that she would start getting violent, but come on, he had to have a little more faith in her than that, right? It wasn't like she would start hitting him as soon as he opened his mouth. As long as it wasn't about the automail, she would definitely let him finish at least one sentence.

Just as she was about to open her mouth and ask again, he started speaking. His voice was low again, the same pain coloring his voice.

"If I ever asked of you to… to go… to get as far away from Rush Valley… as far away from Amestris as possible… would you do it?"

She was stunned. Of all the things he could have said, this was the last one she expected.

Leave Amestris? Leave him and Alphonse behind? Leave her work? Leave him?

_Leave him?_

He could not be serious.

"You…" She started, surprised when her voice was a lot higher than expected. She could feel him cringe, and immedeatly stopped. Looking up, he was the one to refuse to meet her eyes this time. His jaw was clenched, a determined look on his face.

"Why?" She asked, shifting a little so she could look closer to him.

"For your safety." He said, just as softly as before. "And Pinako's too. You are the only family me and Al has left. And if it ever… it might be too dangerous here. And we are getting more and more enemies, every day. We simply can't risk you."

She could feel annoyance and anger flare up in her. Did he really think so little of her? Did he think she couldn't take care of herself, that she was just a little girl, crying for her parents, crying for them?

He turned his head, seeing the anger on her face, and quickly made a ducking motion. It almost made her laugh, but tears of bitterness rose in her eyes before she could.

"I can't just _leave_ you." She hissed, fighting the tears back behind her lids. "If you think for one second…"

"How are we supposed to do this if we have to worry about you guys?" He interrupted her. "How? Tell me that Winry, because I don't know!"

Winry swallowed hard, knowing that she was being unreasonable, but too angry to care.

"You don't have to worry about me." She snarled. She regretted the words as soon as they came out and was very surprised when he laughed again. This time, it sounded even bitterer.

"Winry, it's never been an option for me **not** to worry about you."

That made her pause. The butterflies that had burnt at the fire of her anger was suddenly back again, fluttering around and making goose-bumps stand up on her skin. It hit her like a speeding train, the fact that he might care as much as she did, in the same way that she did.

The fact that he might cry inside because he couldn't have her, couldn't hold her every day and protect her like he was supposed to.

She looking down again, looked at her hands, resting in her lap. How many times had she dreamed about him? About him coming home, coming home with Al in his body again, coming home whole and alive and well? Coming home to never leave again…

She knew that that wasn't the only possibility. She knew that they might die, he might fail, and none of them would come home.

But seeing him, whenever he came home, home to her, seeing him so stubborn, it made her think closely; was it even possible for him to fail? Did he even know the meaning of the word? Did it exist in his personal dictionary or was there just a giant question mark behind it?

She had to have faith in them. Had to believe that they would be coming home, and then everything would be allright. It sounded foolish. It _was_ extremely foolish, but so was there chase for something that might not even exist.

Winry hated herself for having so many thoughts of doubt about them. But she thought it might be justified considering how surprised she would be if all of those bad things actually happened.

She'd put her faith in him and his brother so many times, it came like second nature to her.

She was also aware, that even if they did come home, and they were both whole, it might not be like she dreamed it would be. They might have too many scars on the soul, too much pain to be able to deal with 'normal'.

And he might have found someone else, might only see her as a sister. He might never open his heart to her, the way she had opened hers to him, so many years ago.

Still, when he said things like that, she couldn't help but hope. Couldn't help but believe that one day, he would come home and wrap his arms around her, and then everything would be all right.

And that's why she knew, even if she couldn't bring herself to say it, that if he one day said to her, demanded her to leave the country, she would do it. For him and Alphonse. They couldn't fight their own battles if they had hers to worry about. Even if it meant leaving and never coming back, never seeing him again, she would do it. If it meant they survived.

She would do it, merely because he asked her to.

Because she loved him and couldn't bear the thought of him dying, slowly, painfully, all for her sake.

She would do it because she was a foolish girl in love. Because he was the jailor, and she was the criminal, locked behind bars in his own personal prison. Because every word he said to her was significant, every breath he breathed important.

Because she was Edward's prisoner.


End file.
